give your ole pal michael a pm when you get the chance so we can compare depression starting uni stories.

ill go first...in my first week, eager to make friends, i went with all the lads in my halls to a club night at the union. the music was awful and the conversation was grey but i tried to make a go of it...probably because of all the 'uni...freshers...amazing...time o your life...everything is crazy mad the whole time' rhetoric that had been fed to my ears.
anyway....we hover around the edge of the dancefloor, before a song comes on that all the lads love apparantly. they get up on a stage and start doing a co-ordinated dance. i make a split decision that dancing would be prefereable to acting like the
grinning freind pointing at his mates brilliant antics...so i get on stage and do an awful ski-ing, shooop shoop style move that makes me cry rivers in my soul.

That story is perfect. My account of a miserable night is pretty lacklustre...making it all the more depressing, because no good story has come from it.

I stood tight-lipped all night in an Australian themed bar, as Dominic pomped and preened why all the girls admired his pulsating torso. Me and Iranian Marc Avery wallowed in our own self-pity...but, exactly like the real Marc, the Iranian version had too much pride to admit he was too fat too pull. Dominic shagged an 'exotic dancer'', me and Iranian Marc stumbled home to watch Colin Farrell on BBC 1. Goodnight Seattle. No 'Skins'' for me.

not as good as offing off with a pretty dancer, but...y'know......chin up slugger.

did you talk to her in the morning whilst dominic buffed his eyeballs....

'ah i spoke to his flatmate, he was quite sweet...he was talking about aphex twin and stephen fry....you know stephen fry is my hero, we had a really good chat...so he was nice.....but you should have seen the size of this dom guys co...'